So Rahab made the spies swear that when the doom of destruction fell upon Jericho, she and her father and mother and all her relations-in-law should be saved, and then she let them down from the window of her house, which was very conveniently built upon the town wall, with a scarlet rope.

So you see, by deceit, strategy, disobedience and a succession of neat little lies, she thwarted the King, betrayed the city, and saved her own precious self all at one fell swoop.

[Ill.u.s.tration: (She let them down from the window of her house.)]

When the walls of Jericho fell and childhood in its innocence, ambitious manhood, fiery youth, despairing maidens and loving mothers, were swept by maddening flames and glittering swords into the oblivion called death, from whose silent gloom no smile or tear, no laughter or wail, ever yet has come, then Rahab and all that she had was saved.

She had asked it, and schemed for it, and of course she did not fail.

Next we come to Deborah, a prophetess, who judged Israel at that time, and from the little that is said of her husband, we infer she was the head of the house and ruled him besides attending to her professional duties.

Well, Deborah sent for Barak and commanded him to meet "Sisera, the captain of Jabin's army," in battle array. But he was afraid, and to inspire him by her courageous example she went with him to the field of battle, and every man of Jabin's host "fell upon the edge of the sword; and there was not a man left." But Sisera "fled away on his feet" to Jael, the wife of his friend. Sisera, like another defeated general, had lost his horse.

And she went out to meet him, and gained his entire confidence by smiles and deception, and took him into her tent and gave him milk to drink, covered him with a mantle, and said in her sweetest tones, "Fear not." Then when he slept the sleep of perfect exhaustion, defeat and despair, she "took a nail of the tent, and a hammer in her hand,"

and softly, with bated breath and step that often paused and ear that bent to listen, she approached him, and then--quicker than the lightning's flash or tiger's spring "she smote the nail into his temples, and fastened it into the ground: and he was fast asleep and weary. So he died."

Nice way for a woman to treat her husband's friend, wasn't it?

[Ill.u.s.tration: (She smote the nail into his temples.)]

Abimelech killed seventy of his brothers to become King, and after wars and battles too numerous to mention he came to "Thebez, and encamped against Thebez, and took it." But there was a strong and mighty tower in the city and a thousand men and women, stained with blood, expecting no mercy, but defiant to the last, fled there for a few hours of safety.

"And Abimelech came unto the tower and fought against it, and went hard unto the door of the tower to burn it with fire."

And all the men stood aghast, helpless and despairing, waiting a terrible death. Then a woman with a vision of blood and moans, dying men and ravished women before her, with a courage born of desperation and a wit sharpened with intense fear, boldly stepped to the window ledge, and in the glare of bursting flames and the sound of dying groans "cast a piece of a millstone upon Abimelech's head, and all to break his skull."

"Then he called hastily unto the young man his armour-bearer, and said unto him, Draw thy sword, and slay me, that men say not of me, A woman slew me. And his young man thrust him through, and he died," as a man naturally would who had been hit on the head with a millstone and pierced through with a sword; and every one in the tower was saved.

I'm not telling you this to harrow up your feelings, but just to show you that the holy women of old were not such nonent.i.ties as some of us have supposed.

[Ill.u.s.tration: (Cast a piece of a millstone upon Abimelech's head.)]

And time, undelayed by the roses of June or the snows of winter, by sunshine or starshine, by laughter or sighs, by birth or death, hurried on and the Jews fought and triumphed, bled and died "and did evil, and the Lord delivered them into the hands of the Philistines."

And after a while Samson was born, and what do you suppose he did just as soon as he became a man? Why he went down to Timnath and fell deeply, desperately, madly, in love with a Philistine girl, and he went straight home and told his father and mother about it and they did not approve of it--they never do, it seems--but he was determined to have her, for there was not another female for him in the whole wide world--they all think that for the time being--and of course he married her. Then he made a seven-day feast, and unfortunately he amused the company with a riddle. Of course his wife was dying to know the answer, and her people threatened her if she did not find it out, and altogether it was a lively discussion, and she made his life a burden and a delusion and she wept before him and said:

"Thou dost but hate me and lovest me not; thou hast put forth a riddle unto the children of my people and hast not told it to me." And Samson declared he hadn't told it to his father or mother or any living soul and swore he would not tell _her_--but he did. For "she wept before him the seven days while the feast lasted," and on the seventh day, exhausted by her upbraidings, deluged by her tears and wearied by her everlasting persistence, he whispered it in her ear, and she told the children of her people.

It is safe to conclude that Samson was angry, and the wedding feast broke up in confusion and dismay, and he went and killed thirty people, and the woman who had "pleased him well" he repudiated with such dispatch that it suggests Idaho and the modern man, and "Samson's wife was given to his companion, whom he had used as a friend." The views we get of married life and the domestic relations in the Old Testament make us almost think that marriage was a failure--in those days.

[Ill.u.s.tration: (And she betrayed him.)]

Then Samson, after a little affair which I do not care to dwell upon with a woman of Gaza, who was no better than she should have been, fell blindly in love with Delilah. And, being in love, he profited not by his late experience (what man or woman ever does who is in love?) and again he told the dearest secret of his heart to a woman, because, forsooth, "she pressed him daily with her words, and urged him, so that his soul was vexed unto death." And then with her fine arms around his neck and her kisses on his lips, he fell asleep on her knees--and she betrayed him.

ANOTHER GROUP OF THEM.

ANOTHER GROUP OF THEM.

The great array of the Philistines "came and pitched in Shunem, and Saul gathered all Israel together, and they pitched in Gilboa," and unseen by any of the mighty hosts death and rapine, treachery, revenge and murder, smilingly waited for the desperate battle.

Then Saul, gazing upon the great army of his enemies and terrified at the countless thousands, thought he would like to have his fortune told and said, "Seek me a woman that hath a familiar spirit," and they took him to the witch of Endor, and Saul prayed her to materialize Samuel for his especial benefit. And did she do it? Not at all, or at least not until she had made her own conditions. "And Saul sware to her by the Lord, saying: as the Lord liveth, there shall no punishment happen to you for this thing." And then having brought the King to terms, by cunning hocus-pocus she summoned Samuel from the cold, cold grave. First there was a hush, then a sweeping in of chill, damp air, a scent of decay, the shaking out of a shroud that never rustled, a rush of silent footsteps, and suddenly the door untouched swung noiselessly open and Samuel, with the old regal air, but with the savor of death clothing him like a mantle, and the mildew of death on his brow, stood before them.

You will observe he was far too courteous a ghost to censure a woman--who really was the one who deserved it, since she had wrought the mischief--but said sternly to Saul:

"Why hast thou disquieted me, to bring me up?"

The inference is that after all his triumphs and defeats, his loves and illusions, his glory and fall, he was taking the sweet and silent rest of utter oblivion, and very naturally he did not like to be disturbed, and so he told Saul some things that very nearly scared the lingering hope out of him, and almost reduced him to a condition where he himself was a fit candidate for a companionship with Samuel. Then suddenly the air grew warmer and fresher, the birds began to twitter in the first faint flush of the morning, and looking around one could not see Samuel any more.

Then the witch of Endor wanted Saul to take some refreshment, "But he refused and said, I will not eat."

But the woman did not pay any attention to his refusal, but killed a calf and cooked it, and made some biscuits "and she brought it before Saul, and before his servants, and they did eat" of course, since she smilingly invited them to.

We suppose Saul's wife--at least one of them--was a lady who carried things with a high hand, ruled the servants, nagged her husband, delivered curtain lectures by the hour, scolded him to sleep and then scolded him awake again.

"And whipped the children, and fed the fowls, And made his home resound with howls;"

since we hear him saying to his son Jonathan, "Thou son of the perverse, rebellious woman."

And behold Saul and David were the firmest friends, and every act of David's pleased Saul, and every smile delighted him, and Saul honored, trusted and advanced him, until the women came to have a hand in the affair and then all was changed.

It seems that no one had noticed, or dared to give voice to the thought, that David was becoming a dangerous rival of the great King, until the women, with keen penetration, looking upon the handsome David, saw there was a greater one than Saul. And so one day when David returned from a great slaughter of the Philistines, the girls came and danced and sung and waved their white hands and smiled, and despite the probable indignation of the King at the open preference and approval of the young man, they played and said, "Saul hath slain his thousands, and David his ten thousands."

And Saul was jealous and "very wroth" and--well, that ended that friendship, and it wasn't the last time that women's smiles and honeyed words of praise have blighted the friendship between men "whose souls were knit together."

And there was a woman whose name was Bath-sheba, and she was very beautiful. Her midnight hair curled softly away from her snowy brow, her long black lashes hiding her love-lit eyes swept her rosy cheeks, and her light step dashed the dew from the gra.s.s in the garden, while the blossoms fell from the boughs to kiss her shoulders as she pa.s.sed.

And one eventide, David, walking upon the roof of his palace, saw her bathing. And the last red rays of the sinking sun touched her softly and changed her into a perfect statue of warm pink marble, and David's soul was ravished by her beauty; and with the impetuosity of a king and the reckless pa.s.sion of a lover he sought to beguile her. And Bath-sheba, flattered by the preference of the mighty King, allured by imperial grandeur and enticed by royal appeals, tried to forget the husband, who was off to the wars and away, and who had in the first flush of youth won her by his love, his "brow of truth" and a soul untouched by sin--but the King--the King, the pomp and the power!

Ambition was roused in her heart and she wanted to be clothed in the purple and fine linen of majesty, and to wear a jeweled crown upon her brow. And so she forgot a husband's love, a wife's honor, a woman's virtue, and while angels wept and devils laughed, the memory of Uriah vanished from her mind as a star vanishes before the fire-bursting storm-cloud.

Then black-browed conspiracy and red-handed murder, the boon companions of unholy love, whispered in their ears; and though a vision of Uriah often rose unbidden and unwelcome before her, it was dimmed and obscured by the glitter of jewels and the gleam of costly array, that should yet flash upon her arms and throat and clothe her limbs.

So David sent for Uriah (we presume with the consent, perhaps at the instigation of Bath-sheba, for there is no wickedness like the wickedness of an ambitious, faithless wife), honored and feasted him, and the favored young man, happily unconscious of his wife's treachery, perhaps dreaming bright waking dreams of the wealth, fame and power he would win to lay at Bath-sheba's feet, felt himself honored by being made a special envoy to carry a letter from the King to his greatest general, Joab--and in it the King wrote:

"Set ye Uriah in the fore-front of the hottest battle, and retire ye from him, that he may be smitten and die;" and Joab "a.s.signed Uriah unto a place where he knew the valiant men were," and he was smitten and died.

And David and Bath-sheba were married, but surely, as they stood by the cradle of the little boy who died, the cold hands of the valiant, betrayed Uriah must often have pushed them asunder, and a dark shadow born of their guilty hearts must have pa.s.sed between them and the child. Perhaps when the feast was the gayest a battle field rose before them, and when the music was the loudest and the sweetest, thrilling through it, they heard a dying moan.

When Joab wanted to reconcile David to Absalom, he wished a mediator with wit, tact and delicacy; with the eloquence of an orator and the subtle flattery of a Decius Brutus, and whom did he choose? A man? No: He sent for "a wise woman," and we read that he instructed her what to do, but judging from other women we are sure she instructed him--anyway she went to the King, and she talked like a lawyer, she plead with eloquence, she confessed charmingly, and she flattered with the cunning of her s.e.x, saying, "for as an angel of G.o.d, so is my Lord the King to discern good and bad," and "my Lord is wise, according to the wisdom of an angel of G.o.d," which you will admit was putting it pretty strong. But then, men who didn't work for their living in those days were used to strong language--of praise. Perhaps it is superfluous for me to add that the "wise woman" accomplished her mission.

We are told in poetic language that David "was ruddy, and withal of a beautiful countenance, and goodly to look to," and perhaps that was the chief reason (although women always adored a man of valor, intelligence and strength) that "Michal, Saul's daughter, loved David," and thus gave him the proud distinction of being the first man who was ever loved by a woman--at least the first one we have any authentic, official record of.

Once upon a time David had prepared to wipe Nabal, who was a very rich man, and his followers, from the very face of the earth, because a young man "told Abigail, Nabal's wife, saying, Behold, David sent messengers out of the wilderness, to salute our master, and he railed on them."